


You Smell Like Heaven

by autoeuphoric (FreezingRayne)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingRayne/pseuds/autoeuphoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just the thought of being under that body, touched by those hands, fills him with a longing so intense it is revolting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Smell Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I finally worked up the courage to wade back through my old ff.net account and, in between winces, I found a few things I thought were salvageable. I had totally forgotten about this; it's unusually dark for me, especially at the time I wrote it (YEARS ago). I fixed it up a little, so. Yeah. They were my first ever OTP.

The air is thick with the warm, metallic smell of blood. Sora isn’t sure if it belongs to him, or if it has just soaked into the walls and carpet, mingling with the cement in the foundation that keeps this place standing. 

Wherever he is, it is a knotted tangle of corridors, identical in their blandness, leading to rooms he thinks he should recognize, rooms that belong in his own home. Here, they are warped, mirrored back a thousand times until the familiarity is gone. 

His toe catches on a snag in the carpet, hands burning as he catches himself. A sob forces itself up out of his throat. Footsteps echo behind him, still distant, but always gaining. He tastes fear so intense it is like pain. He reaches another crossroads of blank corridors, a high tide of hopelessness filling him. What’s the use of running? This is just going to go on forever, until the fear drives him mad. 

He is just about to slump to the ground in defeat, when something catches his eye. It’s a little black rectangle low to the floor—a crawl space. Just the perfect size for someone skinny and limber. Someone like him. 

The footsteps draw closer and make up his mind for him. He throws himself to the floor, shaking sweaty hair back out of his eyes. It’s easy to flow through the small space and into the room beyond. It is dim, carpeted with a thin, pale rug, drop-clothed furniture looming up like icebergs. Sora stifles a scream as he sees someone standing opposite him, but it is just his reflection in an ancient mirror, blurry with dust. 

That’s when he hears it. 

“I can smell you, Sora.” The voice seems to come from all around him, close enough that he can pick out the timbres, the subtle things that make it unique. “You smell like heaven.” 

He forces his breathing shallow, turning back to the wall to look through a crack in the boards that separate this hidden room from the corridor. There is someone at the end of the hall, pacing slowly on, silvery hair shimmering in the dark. 

“What will it feel like, I wonder, when I pin you down and choke the life out of you? Will it make you hard, Sora?” 

Nausea rises in him. Just the thought of being under that body, touched by those hands, fills him with a longing so intense it is revolting. 

His pursuer easily works out where he has gone, turning his face to where Sora hides. The madness in those pale blue eyes taints them beyond any true recognition. 

Sora is shaking, sweat cold and sticky on forehead and under his armpits, and suddenly he is not in the room anymore. He is lying in bed under cool sheets, waking from the nightmare with a gasp. 

For a moment he is disoriented, everything from the posters on the wall to the open window strangely foreign and unknown, but it comes back quickly. He’s in the islands, lying in bed with—

Riku. 

The dream rises back up, terror still fresh, fighting to pull him under. Riku is facing him, hair feathering over his forehead and sticking in the corner of his mouth. His expression is relaxed with sleep, lips parted, a red mark on his neck turning to a bruise from where Sora had bit down only a few hours ago. With a sob, he buries his face in Riku’s neck, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“Sora..?” Riku’s voice is heavy and thick. One eye cracks open. “What’s wrong?” 

“I had a bad dream,” Sora says. He sounds like a child, but he doesn’t care. Riku’s arms encircle his waist, fingers massaging the tight muscles of his lower back. 

“It’s alright,” Riku says softly, breath warm against his ear. “It’s over now.” 

Sora squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back tears. “It was about you,” he says tightly. “You were trying to hurt me.” 

Riku goes very still. “It was just a dream, Sor.” 

“I know. But I wanted to hurt you too.” 

“Well, that makes sense.” Riku’s smile is flimsy, but it’s there. He kisses Sora’s forehead. “An eye for an eye, right?” 

Sora shakes his head. “No, I mean. Really. In real life. When the darkness had you, I would have killed you to save myself. I almost did.” 

“Good.” Riku’s tone is unexpectedly hard. “That’s why I know I can trust you.” 

“What?” 

Riku pushes his hair back out of his eyes. It has been years since they joked about sailing across the worlds to find adventure, but in that moment he looks impossibly young. “I’m glad to know that you would kill me if you had to, because sometimes…” Sora knows he must be imagining it, but for a moment he thinks he can see purple-black darkness trailing from his fingertips. But then Riku clenches his fist and it is gone. 

He lays him out on his back, but Sora swiftly shakes his head, rolling over onto his hands and knees. On his back means he can see the play of shadows across the ceiling, the movement of the curtains in the ocean breeze, but it also means he can see Riku’s face, see his eyes if and when the darkness creeps back in. 

Sora is willing to kill Riku. That doesn’t mean he wants to.


End file.
